She left one for Arthur first. It felt right. But she can't leave nothing for her other parent, the man she remembers as dad, even if the title came to him later than Arthur.
She almost knocks, but she's too afraid. He hasn't said anything, Arthur hasn't said anything, John said Arthur needed space--
It occurs to her that she had no idea what to call Lester if it's not 'dad.' She doesn't actually know if that's his name. Which is its own fresh kind of guilt.
She can't make herself knock. But unlike Arthur, if Sheehan is home, he might see the little folded-up shapes made from a newspaper she found in the Lounge as she pushes them under the door. Shapes in the secret language the three of them shared, that she started making up in the months after joining the circus, to leave Arthur messages he'd be able to 'read.'
It's a little bit of floss threaded through three folded paper scraps, showing the order they're supposed to be translated in.
His heart aches to see those shapes, and guilt immediately wells up in him. Of course she would still remember. Of course she would reach out.
It's your job as her father to reach out first.
But he's not. Not really. As much as he remembers those milestones, those soft memories between the two of them, he's still nothing but a stranger. Even if he could probably remember how to braid hair, her hair, if he thought about it long enough.
She gets a gift in kind. Under her door, the same deal - shapes in a quick note.
I'm sorry. I'm scared. I miss you.
And leaning against her door is a book - Winnie the Pooh - a strange find in their library, but one Sheehan is grateful for. He remembers reading it to her. She was too old for it, even then, but he still made up voices and acted out scenes in the 100 Acre Woods, all in the hopes of making her laugh. Laughter had been so scarce in the beginning, after all.
She definitely takes the book into her cabin for a good hard cry before she can think to do anything else. After, she goes to Raylan's room, and she sits next to him and reads the childish book to Raylan the way Sheehan read it to her. With voices and all.
She's scared, she definitely is, but she can't accept the note and the book and leave it at that. It takes almost another full day for her to work herself up to knocking on his cabin door, and then, when he doesn't answer, she even more nervously goes to the counseling office to knock again.
Sheehan is sitting at his desk when he hears the main door open. He stands up, ready to greet whoever is there and -
And.
And.
Willa stands there, looking both so familiar and so foreign to him. Had she always looked like that? Had her hair always parted that way? Had it always fallen so close to her ears? He smiles, grateful to see her.
"Hi, Willa," he says with years of warmth and gentleness behind it, feeling stuffy and awkward in his suit. His arms reach out, almost without him realizing it.
Her eyes well at the way he says hello, and as soon as he holds out his arms, she runs over and hugs him as tightly as she can. She presses her face against his chest, relieved all the way to her bones.
Willa shifts to rest her cheek against him, so she's at least easier to hear. "Yeah. ...Thanks. I was... I would've missed it."
For a few seconds she just lets herself relax a little bit, comforted by the hug, trying not to feel too guilty at the relief of it. Sheehan isn't her father, she doesn't expect him to act like it, she doesn't want to hurt her dad by wishing for it. But god it's hard not to want it when Raylan hasn't woken up.
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the day after the breach;
She almost knocks, but she's too afraid. He hasn't said anything, Arthur hasn't said anything, John said Arthur needed space--
It occurs to her that she had no idea what to call Lester if it's not 'dad.' She doesn't actually know if that's his name. Which is its own fresh kind of guilt.
She can't make herself knock. But unlike Arthur, if Sheehan is home, he might see the little folded-up shapes made from a newspaper she found in the Lounge as she pushes them under the door. Shapes in the secret language the three of them shared, that she started making up in the months after joining the circus, to leave Arthur messages he'd be able to 'read.'
It's a little bit of floss threaded through three folded paper scraps, showing the order they're supposed to be translated in.
I'm scared. I'm sorry. Are you angry?
no subject
It's your job as her father to reach out first.
But he's not. Not really. As much as he remembers those milestones, those soft memories between the two of them, he's still nothing but a stranger. Even if he could probably remember how to braid hair, her hair, if he thought about it long enough.
She gets a gift in kind. Under her door, the same deal - shapes in a quick note.
I'm sorry. I'm scared. I miss you.
And leaning against her door is a book - Winnie the Pooh - a strange find in their library, but one Sheehan is grateful for. He remembers reading it to her. She was too old for it, even then, but he still made up voices and acted out scenes in the 100 Acre Woods, all in the hopes of making her laugh. Laughter had been so scarce in the beginning, after all.
lmk if I need to tweak!
She's scared, she definitely is, but she can't accept the note and the book and leave it at that. It takes almost another full day for her to work herself up to knocking on his cabin door, and then, when he doesn't answer, she even more nervously goes to the counseling office to knock again.
It's great!
And.
And.
Willa stands there, looking both so familiar and so foreign to him. Had she always looked like that? Had her hair always parted that way? Had it always fallen so close to her ears? He smiles, grateful to see her.
"Hi, Willa," he says with years of warmth and gentleness behind it, feeling stuffy and awkward in his suit. His arms reach out, almost without him realizing it.
no subject
"Hey."
no subject
"Did you find the book?"
no subject
For a few seconds she just lets herself relax a little bit, comforted by the hug, trying not to feel too guilty at the relief of it. Sheehan isn't her father, she doesn't expect him to act like it, she doesn't want to hurt her dad by wishing for it. But god it's hard not to want it when Raylan hasn't woken up.
no subject
"Do you want a drink? I have some water in my office. And some snacks."